


we definitely didn't go down to georgia

by virotutis



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, featuring: irresponsible drinking and drunk demon summoning, its spelt ouma instead of oma in this fic btw, this is just a "oops i accidentally summoned a demon" au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 04:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virotutis/pseuds/virotutis
Summary: Drunk Shuichi didn’t remember what they had said exactly, but he definitely remembered what he said to the both of them to try and resolve their argument.“Well, in order to confirm the existence of something and prove its validity, you must have evidence to back up the claim. So, the only way to prove that magic is real is to perform some and do something that only magic could possibly do.”“What do you suggest then, Saihara?” Yumeno squinted at him. “Today’s a good night. I’m full on MP. I can do anything.”Shuichi had stared her in the eyes and told her, “Let’s summon a demon.”





	we definitely didn't go down to georgia

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween!!! i wrote this in a single night to avoid working on homework because i love to make awful life decisions for myself. please be responsible. 
> 
> tumblr: [hotsuins](http://hotsuins.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [dragonstreams](http://twitter.com/dragonstreams)

It all started with Shuichi deciding to go to a party. This was where the long chain of his poor decisions and mistakes began.

A week before Halloween, Akamatsu had called him and asked if he was free on that night. She was planning on having a party with some of her new friends and decided to invite their old high school classmates to come as well.

“It’d be nice to see you again, Saihara-kun,” she had said, and he could hear papers shuffling in the background and the occasional sound of a piano note ringing out. “It’s really been a while! We haven’t met up in ages!”

He hadn’t actually seen much of any of his old classmates since graduation and they all went their separate ways. Shuichi was currently working on getting his degree in Criminal Justice and handling the cases that came his way and that kept him busy enough that he was unable to keep in contact with everyone.

Momota still called him occasionally, but they hadn’t met in person since he moved to Ibaraki to be close to the Tsukuba Space Center. Akamatsu herself was busy enough with piano recitals and her studies in music that they only texted each other perhaps once a month. Shuichi had missed them.

Therefore, when Akamatsu had asked him if he could come, he had said yes. That was his first mistake.

Attending a party was not normally something that was a problem for most people. Except for the fact that Shuichi was not exactly most people. He was not a good person to have at parties. He was, in fact, a fairly piss-poor one.

That aspect of himself is far from being intentional; despite the amount of personal growth he had made since meeting Akamatsu and Momota in high school, Shuichi had always been a quiet individual who sometimes struggled with having conversations with others.

He was fine with that though. Shuichi had grown confident in himself enough that he could assert himself while doing detective work. He believed in himself now. That was all he really needed.

Still, a majority of social situations were somewhat difficult for him. He was still not very good with crowds and had difficulty making casual conversations with his peers sometimes. It was always much easier for him to speak with people he knew from Hope’s Peak. So instead of dealing with conversation, Shuichi always drank at the very few parties he attended. No one would expect him to actually say something if he was in the middle of chugging alcohol after all.

It was not the best avoidance tactic he had in his repertoire, but it had always worked well enough for him. This, ultimately, was what led to his second mistake.

See, when he had arrived, no one he knew was there. Of course, Akamatsu was present and had waved when she saw him walk in, but she was in the middle of a conversation and Shuichi didn’t want to interrupt by walking over to her. Thus, he made a bee-line to the drinks immediately after someone had made eye contact with him and recognition had flashed across their face.

Logically he knew that he probably shouldn’t be consuming alcohol just to avoid making a fool out of himself because he would _definitely_ do exactly that when drunk. He had heard enough stories about him drunk that let him know that both Drunk Shuichi and Tipsy Shuichi were general messes with no filter that Sober Shuichi did not trust. Shuichi had stared at the drink table and actually took a moment to reconsider his usual avoidance tactic.

These were Akamatsu’s friends and people she knew, after all. He didn’t want his attitude while drunk to end up reflecting badly on her just because he didn’t know how to talk to people.

But then someone had actually approached him and he thought, fuck it, and chugged down a beer in his panic. By the time that Akamatsu had found him again, his nerves and general anxiety had convinced him to down four drinks.

“Saihara-kun, are you… okay?” she asked, giving him and the empty bottles around him an uneasy look. “You haven’t been here for very long but, um, you’re kind of drinking a lot. I didn’t… really take you for a heavy drinker.”

Shuichi looked at her, and considered his reply. “No. I am not okay,” he had answered, and paused to down the rest of his drink. “I don’t think I’ve been okay in years. This is a nice party though, Akamatsu-san.”

Akamatsu only stared. Shuichi did not know what she was waiting for, but her eyes kept dropping to the bottle in his hand. Which logically meant...

“Would you like some, Akamatsu-san?” he decided to offer. He didn’t know why she was waiting for him to give her one; this was her party, after all.

She did not take the bottle. Instead, her face twisted in horror and she whispered, “oh _no_. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Shuichi did not reply to that. He opened another bottle and kept drinking. Akamatsu looked as if she wanted to say something, but then Iruma had arrived in all her normal boisterous, loud, arrogant bluster and Shuichi slipped away while she was distracted.

He wanted another drink. After that, the rest of the night became a blur.

Tipsy Shuichi turned into Drunk Shuichi, who had no knowledge of the concept known as restraint and decided to climb the walls of drunkenness and tumbled into the wildness known as being completely blackout drunk. The very last thing that he remembered, was which the most important mistake that he had made that night, was the fact that Iruma and Yumeno had gotten into an argument about the existence of magic and he had stumbled in on them.

Drunk Shuichi didn’t remember what they had said exactly, but he definitely remembered what he said to the both of them to try and resolve their argument.

“Well, in order to confirm the existence of something and prove its validity, you must have evidence to back up the claim. So, the only way to prove that magic is real is to perform some and do something that only magic could possibly do.”

“What do you suggest then, Saihara?” Yumeno squinted at him. “Today’s a good night. I’m full on MP. I can do anything.”

Shuichi had stared her in the eyes and told her, “Let’s summon a demon.”

His recollection of the night had ended there. He had no idea what Yumeno and Iruma had said to that, or how it even went down. All Shuichi knew was that he had woke up at home, dressed in the previous night’s clothes and smelling faintly of soot and sage.

He closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back, groaning. The hangover hadn’t quite set in yet, but it was only a matter of time. When he had opened his eyes, there was a purple-haired man was leaning over him and watching him.

He blinked, rubbing at his eyes. The man smiled down at him, looking absolutely delighted.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” he crooned. “I thought you were going to sleep all day and leave little old me alone!”

Shuichi screamed bloody murder.

 

.

 

“So, you’re… a demon.”

“Mhm!” the man— Ouma Kokichi, he had introduced himself as— nodded as he raided Shuichi’s fridge. He had found one of Shuichi’s flan cups and immediately proceeded to grab a spoon to demolish it. Shuichi grimaced. That was the good, expensive ones too.

“More specifically,” he continued as he ate, “I’m the kind that makes deals. You know, pact with the devil and all. You sell your soul for a favor and I give you whatever it is that you want, blah, blah, blah. That kind of demon.”

God, Shuichi thought, what the fuck did Drunk Shuichi get himself into? “And, I… summoned you last night. That was a thing that actually happened.”

Ouma nodded. He was half-done with the first cup and was already reaching for another. “Yup. You and two other girls— a slutty-looking blonde with big tits and a tiny red-head with an ugly face. Your blood was used though, and you were much cuter than the both of them combined, so I picked you to be bound to.”

Shuichi looked down to the back of his hand, where there was a bright pink Hello Kitty band-aid covering up a cut he didn’t remember getting. He slumped over on the couch, leaning against the armrest, and dragged a hand down his face.

He didn’t actually believe that Ouma was a demon because there was no evidence proving that he was besides his words, but he also didn’t want to think that Ouma had just broken into his apartment, watched him sleep for an indeterminate amount of time, and ate his flan just for giggles.

“Okay,” he said, because he legitimately didn’t know what else to say in this situation. Demanding that Ouma prove himself to be a demon only seemed like it would be dangerous. “Alright. Is it, like, possible for you just to… simply leave?”

Ouma had frozen, spoon still sticking out of his mouth, and turned a wide, guileless gaze on him. “Y-you want me to leave?” he asked quietly as tears began to well up in his eyes, sniffling as a single tear began to roll down his cheek. “A-already? Really?”

“Yeah, kind of. I have work tomorrow.”

Ouma immediately stopped with the crocodile tears, rolling his eyes and he pulled the spoon out of his mouth to set it on the counter top despite Shuichi’s protest. “Nope, sorry, no can do. I told you, I’m the kind of demon that makes deals.”

“And you can only return after a deal has been made and fulfilled?” Shuichi reasoned with a grimace. This was just getting worse and worse.

“Bingo! Got it in one!” Ouma gave him a bright smile and laughed loudly. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Saihara-chan! I can’t leave until I have your soul, and I have to stick close to you. Even if I tried to leave you, I wouldn’t be able to.”

The noise made Shuichi’s head throb painfully. Urgh. The hangover was now apparently kicking in. His head feel like it was going to explode. He took in a deep breath. “You know that I really have no intention of selling my soul, right?”

Ouma shrugged. “I pretty much assumed, yeah. But what can a demon do, really? You summoned, I answered. I’m stuck on this plane until you decide to fulfill your end of the bargain. A contract like this is unbreakable even if I wanted to break it. Which I don’t. You’re pretty cute, Saihara-chan. I like you.”

Shuichi was unsure about how to feel about a demon complimenting him. He took in a deep breath, and did not acknowledge the fact that blood had redden his cheeks. “You don’t even know me.”

“You made a good impression on me,” Ouma claimed, with a smirk.

“I was blackout drunk. How on _earth_ did I do that?”

“You looked right at me, having just crawled out of the pits of Hell to take someone’s soul and condemn them to eternal damnation, and asked me if all demons had purple hair and if my hair color was real.”

Shuichi choked and immediately paled. “Oh no. Did I really? Seriously?”

“Yup,” Ouma popped the ‘p’. “We don’t, by the way. I’m also completely 100% natural. We have hair colors that reflect our strengths; the warm colors like the reds and oranges are the weakest and the cool colors like the blues and purples are the strongest. So, in case you were wondering, you really lucked out summoning me.”

“Really?” That… kind of sounded like complete bullshit, but hey, what did Shuichi know about demonology. If the actual demon said so then, it had to be true—

“Nope! That was all a complete lie!”

Shuichi didn’t know what kind of face he had made at that moment, but it made Ouma burst into hysterical laughter. He sighed and rubbed at his temples, trying to soothe the pain in his head.

“So the first part about my initial reaction to you was a lie too, right? I didn’t actually ask about your hair color?”

“Oh, no,” Ouma said, nonchalantly checking his nails. “You really did. Your blonde friend told you that if you wanted to know so bad then you should check if the carpets match the drapes. You looked her in the eye and told her that going to a fabric store was pointless because they were all closed at night.”

Okay, that was definitely something Drunk Shuichi would say. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he muttered into his palms, wanting to die. “About past me and about what Iruma-san said. That was very inappropriate of her.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Shuichi jumped, dropping his hands. Ouma was suddenly standing in front of him, with one knee on the armrest of the couch as he towered over Shuichi and penned him in. His scarf hung in front of Shuichi’s face and his crotch was too close to his face for Shuichi’s personal comfort levels.

“Um,” he said, practically having a heart attack. Ouma’s hand had reached out to caress his face gently, tilting Shuichi’s chin up towards him. Ouma had a very nice face, and very pretty purple eyes. “ _Um._ ”

“I told you, didn’t I? You’re cute, Saihara-chan, and I _like_ you.” There was a sly smile on Ouma’s face as he began to lean down. “I really wouldn’t mind showing you if you really wanted to, you know.”

Shuichi stopped thinking and, instead, reacted.

He gave Ouma a hard shove, who yelped as he fell right on top of the coffee table and broke it in half, before he threw himself off the couch and onto the floor to get away. It was a very painful landing for the both of them.

Ouma groaned. “That was rude, Saihara-chan! I think I have splinters in my back now! What was that for?”

“Sorry,” Shuichi said into the hardwood flooring. He didn’t have the heart to get up and he was 70% he bruised his nose when he hit the ground. “I just, I don’t even know. I’m sorry.”

This co-living situation was apparently going to be very long and very hard for the both of them.


End file.
